A thousand or so kilometres west of Brisbane, Hungerford is a thriving hub just metres north of the NSW border. In the 2021 census it allegedly had a population of 19 but as I only saw three of them I can’t attest to the accuracy of the census. Currawinya National Park is nearby which contains a large saltwater lake hosting thousands of nesting pelicans and their chicks. Next to it is a large freshwater lake billed as good for a swim or canoeing. To facilitate these activities, National Parks and Wildlife Service put the carpark, for no apparent reason, a good 250 metres from the water so after a refreshing lake visit you can build up a good sweat lugging your canoe under the blazing sun through the red dirt back to your vehicle. The park also contains The Granites – a collection of large rocks, unsurprisingly made of granite, which may or may not include a fossilised elephant (depending on your imagination and/or use of illicit substances).
The town abuts the dingo fence gate that appears to be a breeding ground for signs. These give you plenty to read while waiting for your gate opener to do their job. During 2020 and 2021, in response to COVID-19, Queensland Police closed the border at the gate to prevent swarms of infected people flowing between the two states and thus a viral armageddon was averted.
This story is part of our Australian Back Roads & Remote Travel series. Read more here.
The gate in the dingo fence at Hungerford marking the border between NSW and Queensland, well festooned with reading material.
The town itself comprises about a dozen houses of classic country style, a police station, a couple of other buildings, a pub, a sports ground, and a cemetery where reserving a plot costs only $65. To the east is a flashy tar airstrip. Those pining for a bit of horse and buggy action are out of luck as the Cobb & Co coach service to the town stopped in 1904. A pair of tennis courts appears to have once been synthetic turf before being so ravaged by the weather that they now resemble dirt. As I was lacking balls and a racquet it didn’t matter. However, it did have me fondly reminiscing about my tennis playing youth when I could have played for Australia – foiled only by a lack of ability.
The Royal Mail Hotel is a fine establishment where I stayed a few nights. Of note for the coordinated is the ceiling in the bar. Punters can throw a note wrapped around a drawing pin, and a few 20 cents coins for weight, up at the wooden ceiling. If done correctly, the coins fall away leaving the note pinned to the wood. From my limited observation, most attempts failed. The notes planted by those with a steady hand are periodically harvested for charity.
On the edge of town, the sports ground appears to cater to both motor racing enthusiasts and the more traditional cattle and horse folk. It has an impressively sized, dirt floored outdoor bar area that had me reaching for my metal detector – cash would be king here and pissed people have difficulty keeping change in their pockets. After 15 minutes or so I wished there was a buck to be made in cornering the market in used beer bottle caps. But then I found a $2 coin and figured that if I managed that only 300 more times then my metal detector would have paid for itself.
Onwards, and Thargomindah is only about 150km away. It is probably notable for many things but the only thing I remember was refuelling at a pump that had totally unintelligible numbers. I didn’t know how many litres I took, or how much it cost before going in to pay, but I was very confident of making it to Noccundra.
And what a gem Noccundra is. There was no doubt rousing applause in 2020 when the Queensland Government, never one to shy away from making the big, hard decisions, changed the name of the town from Nocundra – adding a second ‘c’ has made a huge difference. The population of the town is three. It has a couple of streets in theory but is pretty much just a fine old sandstone pub (the somewhat unimaginitively named, but good for dinner and a cold beverage, Noccundra Hotel), community hall, a public amenities block and a tennis court. Opposite the pub, a clay target shooting range faces away from the main road – towards the camping areas along the river. But I’m sure the chances of a grey nomad sitting outside their Winnebago getting a few shotgun pellets in their cup of tea are minimal. After surviving the best efforts of the clay target club, any campers without their own facilities only have about an 800m round trip to walk to the public amenities block.
On the edge of town is what I call the Noccundra International Airport. On a flat, rocky expanse of dirt, white cones outline the runway, and yellow cones represent departures and arrivals, baggage area, control tower, etc. The town cemetery is nearby. If the entire population of the area died tomorrow, as the cemetery only has two graves it could easily accommodate the increased demand for plots.
Next was the anticipation of arriving at the western point of the southern border – Cameron Corner.
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Neale is a former defender of the nation with a natural inclination to avoid most people. He enjoys travel to random, hopefully sparsely populated, locations with interesting architecture, old trains and cemeteries. He is retired and lives near Newcastle in a large patch of vegetation.
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